


the split

by havisham



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Humor, M/M, The Good Angband, whispers of incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 03:26:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12762144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/pseuds/havisham
Summary: Maedhros may be stuck in a hell of Gorthaur's making, but at least one of them is having a good time.





	the split

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sath/gifts).



“Ah, don’t damage him,” Gorthaur said as the orcs dragged the bound Maedhros into his chambers. “Fëanor’s brood are very proud of their pretty faces, aren’t they? Now, now, don’t look at me like that. If you try to spit in my eye again, I’ll gouge yours out. Do we understand each other?” 

So Maedhros spat at his feet instead. Gorthaur grinned widely as he knocked Maedhros down, his mouth curling upwards, satisfied, at the inevitable crunch of bone. 

Gorthaur was a preening, smirking nightmare of a being that Maedhros thought he could come to loathe far more than he did Morgoth. It helped that Morgoth spent much of his time brooding and playing with his father’s jewels (that was not an exaggeration, nor a joke -- Morgoth seemed more enthralled with the Silmarils than even Fëanor had been -- Maedhros would know, after all) while Gorthaur …

Well, he said it best himself -- 

“The Dark Elves are very stupid,” he had explained to Maedhros during one long, mind-bogglingly painful torture session. “One cannot expect them to be as sophisticated as the Noldor. The Sindar too are very backwards and -- obsessed with woodcrafts. Really, it’s disgusting. I’ve missed speaking to people such as yourself. It’s almost as if I was back in Aulë’s halls.” 

“If you’re expecting me to care or call you Mairon or something, I think I’d rather you eat me here.” 

Gorthaur hissed between his pointed teeth. “You are very imprudent, even for a son of Fëanor. And I don’t want you to call me Mairon, you don’t deserve it, you little pissant. Break a rib, would you?” The last thing he addressed to the enormous orc behind Maedhros.

Maedhros had long ago given up not screaming in pain when they hurt him. It never mattered in the end, screaming or not. The pain always continued.

*

“Ah, got you!” Fingon caught his arm just as Maedhros felt himself slipping away. “You’re not usually so distracted. What’s wrong?” his cousin asked, looking past his shoulder, a small frown marring the usual perfection of his features.

“Are you worried that your father will forbid you to see me?”

“I wouldn’t care if he did,” Maedhros said, which was a lie. Fingon smiled, because he knew it was a lie. His cousin knew him so well… 

“Aha!” cried Gorthaur, “End the simulation!” 

Maedhros suppressed a cry of distress as Fingon’s well-beloved face melted into blackness and rot and then was replaced by Gorthaur’s grinning mug. “How many of those have we done with your endless (and I really do mean endless) series of brothers and cousins and close personal friends? And this is the one where you took the bait? I knew one one would, I am a master baiter --” 

Maedhros glared at him. 

“You may laugh, you sour orange -- but anyway! Fingon, eh. Fingon the Valiant, ninth to the throne. Has had three different serious head injuries in his relatively short lifespan, and the one you --” he sighed loudly -- “long for. You think he’s the one to rescue you, eh? Well, we shall see about that.” 

*

“Maitimo, move your head a little more,” Fingon said, holding his paintbrush away from the canvas. “Are you getting stiff?” 

“I’m cold,” Maedhros said and shivered. He realized suddenly that he was not, in fact, lounging in the nude on a silk rug on a silver-tinted evening in Valinor at all, but rather he was chained to a rock on a cliff-side (though in fairness, he was still nude) and utterly alone. His screams did no good at all. 

*

“Hanging in there, buddy?” Gorthaur said, the next time they met. He rattled Maedhros’ chain in a friendly fashion. “I want to tell you that your buff boyfriend’s made it through the Grinding Ice. His sister-in-law wasn’t so lucky, but I don’t think you care about her, do you?” 

“Piss off,” Maedhros said. 

“Oh, mean! I was going to offer you water too, but I suppose that isn’t needed--” Gorthaur dribbled icy water down Maedhros’ face. “You should see your face right now! You want to kill me but you can’t! Because I’m an angelic being and you’re scum!” 

After a few moments of cackling, Gorthaur sighed. “Honestly, it’s so boring, tormenting you. You just hang there, stone-faced and unhappy. Haven’t you ever considered my needs? My desires? I honestly don’t think this relationship is going to work...” 

Maedhros could only scream so loudly to drown him out. But Gorthaur always managed to be louder. 

*

“I’m going to get you out -- Maitimo!” Fingon cried and Maedhros kept blinking, but neither he nor Fingon disappeared. This was real then. It became even more real when Fingon took out his sword. There was a certain, wild look in his eyes that Maedhros did not like. 

“Finno, wait,” he said, “don’t do that -- it’s a --!” 

*

It was a trap. Maedhros watched helplessly as he remained where he was -- now bleeding from the bloody stump where his right hand had been -- while Fingon bundled off his doppleganger with a cloak and took off on a suspiciously scaly eagle -- an eagle that perhaps was not an eagle at all. 

Gorthaur turned around and gave him a cheerful wave when Fingon wasn’t looking.

(He also blew a kiss.) 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my mystery beta! 
> 
> Also, real talk, I hate that Sauron is synned with Mairon when everyone knows that the most correct Sauron tag would be Sauron | The Lord of the Rings. Also, what about Annatar, Sauron's sexiest fursona??? PLEASE, AO3. YOU'RE KILLING ME.


End file.
